


One Magical Morning

by Lothlorienne



Series: Tumblr challenges [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothlorienne/pseuds/Lothlorienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A-hoot, owls of London. *ba-dun-tsh*<br/>Could qualify as slightly cracky, still quite believable imo though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Magical Morning

It seemed to be an exceptionally good day. John woke up early. He was in a good mood, not for any particular reason, what happened to people every now and then. The man simply felt completely blissful and happy, without being able to say why. Neither did he care to. He just enjoyed feeling that slight hint of something magic run through his veins. John took his time to stretch his limbs, purred a low groan of pleasure, shifted in his sheets. He rolled from his back onto his stomach, stretched some more, then rolled back to relax in the soft warmth of his nest. Welcoming yellowish sunlight shone through the rain-stained window. John knew he would have to clean it sometime, maybe tomorrow. A bird flew past the window and he decided to get up.  
The man didn’t know for how long he had lain in bed, simply enjoying the moment, but when he went down the stairs and entered the living room he shared, his flatmate was sitting by one of the two large windows, staring outside, holding a clipboard with some paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. As John came closer, Sherlock wrote something down, though he kept looking outside.  
‘Experiment?’ John asked, and he crouched next to his flatmate.  
‘Observation.’ Sherlock answered, still not looking away from the window.  
John glanced at the grid his flatmate had carefully drawn out on the sheet of paper. There were only two columns: one titled ‘owl’, with the numbers one, two and three underneath. The second column was called ‘sighted’, and Sherlock was keeping count.  
‘You’re keeping track of… owls?’  
‘Obviously.’  
At that moment, a large screech owl passed the window. The moment didn’t last long, but John’s eyes and reflexes were still well-trained from his time on the battle field, and in that second the owl passed their window, he could notice more details than others would have seen.  
‘Was that owl carrying a – ?’  
‘So you noticed.’  
‘Well.’  
They were silent for a moment.  
‘That’s just weird.’  
‘I found it quite unusual, myself,’ Sherlock confirmed, ‘hence the clipboard.’  
‘Frequency?’ John asked.  
‘About two owls every fifty-seven seconds.’  
John got up again and walked over to the next window. It opened inwards, and as he pulled the framework towards him, a few books shifted and fell on the floor, next to his bare feet. Sherlock hissed at hearing his babies fall. John mumbled an apology before leaning out the open window, expectantly looking left and right, but not seeing anything just yet.  
‘A young eagle owl, from the right, in about fifteen seconds,’ Sherlock announced, just looking briefly at his chart before focusing again. John braced himself as he started to count to fifteen. As soon as he had reached nine, the expected owl appeared from the corner of the street and came flying in the direction of 221b.  
‘Incoming!’ John cheered, and glanced over to his flatmate, who stayed perfectly still, not in the least impressed with the owls. But then, suddenly, he squinted his eyes and his upper body snapped forward. ‘John, duck!’  
Without a moment’s hesitation, John obeyed his flatmate and dropped to the floor. The next second four big owls made their way into the room, all carrying an envelope. The letters were dropped as soon as the owls had entered the room, the paper raining down on John. The look on his face was one of confusion and astonishment. Sherlock seemed to be intrigued and just a tiny bit amused, and he was now looking at the owls, who had settled themselves on the couch and the coffee table. One was even bold enough to land on the skull on the mantelpiece.  
John took a better look at the envelopes. At first sight, they all seemed to be identical. And addressed to him. John ripped one open, still with a god smacked kind of expression on his face.  
‘What does it say?’ Sherlock inquired, putting his fingertips together, looking as if he already knew exactly what was written in the letters.  
‘Dear mister Watson,’ John read out aloud, ‘we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted – oh dear GOD. I, I…’  
He held up the letter for his flatmate to see.  
‘I’m a WIZARD, Sherlock!’


End file.
